


if you’re falling just hold on to me

by lady_mab



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Mechs are just motorcycles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-23 20:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20213011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_mab/pseuds/lady_mab
Summary: Wynter jerks back on the board, wheels rattling over the cement, until her back hits the van. She scrubs at her cheek as Vanya laughs, knowing that it's a fruitless endeavor because she works in a mechanic shop there will always be grease somewhere. It's probably making it worse.Vanya waggles her fingers as she steps away. "I'll talk to you soon," she says, and shoves her hands into her pockets. As she goes, a bounce in her step, she whistles a horribly off-tune rendition of 'When the Saints Go Marching In'.The sound of it echoes around the shop, even after Wynter is sure she's gone.





	if you’re falling just hold on to me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angstandcaffeine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstandcaffeine/gifts).

> Yea our colors are bright and I’ll push, we’ve only begun  
A fall back won’t stop pushing me towards what's waiting ahead  
\- [Gill Chang, Maazel & Danni Carra - Hold On](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6-xrAzg8KY)

From beneath the van, Wynter's vision is just a field of parts and the overwhelming scent of engine oil, comfortably familiar and easier to understand than the voices that are just out of her range of hearing.

A customer in the garage, probably. Not all that unusual. They get people in all the time that think they know A Thing Or Two About Cars and want to give an opinion on how their vehicle should be fixed. Most of the time, it involves them being wrong with Wynter smiling and nodding, and then ignoring their advice. If she listened to any person who came in and told her how to do her job just because she was young and still technically a teenager, she wouldn't get anything done.

The chattering doesn't go away, despite the fact that it has to have been at least three minutes. Whatever. Let one of the others deal with this. She has to get this van finished before—

A boot kicks hers, and she only has a moment to prepare herself before said boot hooks under board she's lying on and tugs her out from beneath the van.

Wynter's expression is already in a frown as she blinks owlishly up at the overhead lights of the garage, and, from there, catches sight of Vanya's cheeky grin. "I'd be done sooner if you stopped bothering me," she says before Vanya can get the chance.

"I don't care about that," Vanya says, obviously delighted at her annoyance. "I just stopped by to say hi."

"Alright. Hi. Nice talking to you. Bye." Wynter reaches back out for the under carriage, but Vanya is faster.

She lets out a playful sigh and pulls Wynter further away from the van. "I thought you didn't work on Tuesdays."

That's a weird sort of way to start the conversation, considering the fact that Vanya is standing in her place of work, disrupting her from said work. "I do today."

"Yeah, I can see."

Wynter pushes herself upright with a sigh, though at least it doesn't sound as annoyed as she feels. "I'll be done with the van tomorrow at the latest."

"I'm not here about the van."

"Why are you here?"

Vanya tilts her head to the side, and gives a look like it's supposed to be obvious. "I'm here to see you."

Wynter almost drops the spanner she's holding out of surprise, though she _knows_ she should know better by now. "Why?"

"You free next weekend?"

"Depends," she says, slowly, suddenly very keenly aware that Sommer is lurking somewhere nearby.

Vanya leans back against the upright tool box, probably intending to look very cool doing it until she realizes too late it is on wheels and it scoots away from her. She recovers easily enough, but not so quickly that a snort of laughter doesn't escape from Wynter. "Gig issued a challenge to the Arc."

Wynter lifts an eyebrow and tries to stifle her amusement. "What, you're going to fight him out back behind Denny's and you need a second?"

She draws back a little in confusion. "No. What? No. Oh," and Vanya laughs as realization dawns. "You know how he was hyping up that game thing he did with Brighton last year all over his channel?"

"Did some of the Arc kids leave mean comments again?"

"Maybe, but that's not the point. He's now pitching a battle between the Arc and the Brighton House. 'Friendly competition'," she adds in heavy air quotes.

Wynter considers this, turning the spanner over in her hands a few times. "So... you want me there to, what, help moderate? Help set up?"

Vanya shrugs. "I guess 'help moderate' would be good. You know he named his horse one of the judges last year?"

"Sounds like him."

"Yeah. Well, you, me, and Kent. We can be the judges. Or something, I don't know."

Wynter continues to draw out the thought process. She knows that, as soon as Vanya is gone, Sommer will update the schedule to give her the days off without even having to ask. She can practically hear him already, telling her to take some time to herself, yadda yadda something about being young, not having to follow in her mother's footsteps.

It almost made her want to turn it down, just to prove him wrong.

But that would have been an incredibly stupid reason to turn down getting to hang out with Vanya. A crush that made her do silly things sometimes, but not _that_ level of silly.

"Yeah, alright," Wynter finally says, hooking her elbows over her knees and scooting the board back and forth a little idly. "I'll check, and let you know."

"Tell me when you call to tell me the van is done." Vanya's grin is fond, though that only lasts a moment before it turns impish and she leans down to tap Wynter's cheekbone. "Also, you've got a bit of grease right there."

Wynter jerks back on the board, wheels rattling over the cement, until her back hits the van. She scrubs at her cheek as Vanya laughs, knowing that it's a fruitless endeavor because she works in a _mechanic shop there will always be grease somewhere_. It's probably making it worse.

Vanya waggles her fingers as she steps away. "I'll talk to you soon," she says, and shoves her hands into her pockets. As she goes, a bounce in her step, she whistles a horribly off-tune rendition of 'When the Saints Go Marching In'.

The sound of it echoes around the shop, even after Wynter is sure she's gone.

A groan works its way out of her mouth, and she slumps back against the van—then slides down it into a nearly horizontal position as the board rolls away.

There's a beat of silence, and Wynter counts down the seconds on her fingers before Sommer's voice calls out to her. "Good news, Wynter dear, it looks like you _do_ have next weekend off."

"Thanks," Wynter says dryly, though it doesn't stop the blush.

* * *

The first day of the epic weekend-long event between The Arc and Brighton House results in what could be diplomatically be described as a tie.

Really, it culminated in the Arc kids going rogue despite Vanya doing her best to wrangle them into some semblance of order, and a series of water balloons were launched at Gig during the final game. This only sparked Kent into calling a foul, and the kids of his house retaliating with a barrage of their own on the Arc kids.

Gig was no help in the grand scheme of things, and although he pretended to be angry that it didn't go the way he planned at first, the amusement couldn't stay hidden for long and soon he joined in and managed to launch a balloon right into Kent's face.

Wynter's sides hurt by the end from laughing too hard. She wasn't exempt from the finale, and her damp hair clings to her collar as it drys in the summer evening heat.

Vanya oscillates between frustration and utter delight, and the accepts first day's joint victory with Kent with grace.

By the time she finds Wynter again, having taken a considerable amount of time helping clean up all the bits of the balloon fight, Wynter is leaning against her bike and only half-focused on the scene playing out in front of her.

"Oh, good, you didn't leave without saying goodbye," Vanya says. There are specks all over her glasses from where water dried on the lenses. "I was afraid you might have."

"Of course not." Wynter drums her fingers over the dome of the helmet. "Do you have to stick around to clean up?"

She runs a hand back through her hair, and Wynter fights down the urge to comb the strands that stick up awkwardly after. "I don't think so. The other supervisors can do that." Vanya tugs off her glasses and studies the lenses in the dying light before letting her gaze shift to Wynter. "Why, you got somewhere you need to be?"

"No. I was just." She stops, swallows, holds out the helmet. "Wanna go for a ride?"

Vanya visibly hesitates, though she rocks forward on the balls of her feet towards the offered helmet almost as if she doesn't realize it.

"I promise I'll go at a reasonable speed," Wynter adds, because that could very well be the deciding factor. It normally is, because as much as Vanya likes to talk a big game, she doesn't like going fast on the bike.

Her expression shifts as she hooks the glasses back into place—looking more like a challenge. "No you won't," she says as she takes the helmet. "Let's go before someone comes looking for me."

Wynter helps her fit the helmet on, checks to make sure it's secure, then swings her leg over the bike. "Hold on tight."

Vanya hops on behind her, fidgets awkwardly with her legs for a moment before leaning forward and wrapping her arms around Wynter's waist.

They haven't ridden like this in a long time, Wynter thinks as she flips the ignition and revs the bike into gear. No particular reason, just that Vanya became more involved with the Arc, and Wynter spent more time going _anywhere_ she could on her mother's old Knight—with or without the other Saints.

The other Saints think she's too young to take her mother's spot, and Wynter doesn't know how to argue that she isn't.

Because everywhere they go, she gets those strange looks—a child trying to fit in with the adults. Just because she wears the same jacket doesn't make her one of them.

She sticks to the park they're already in, because it forces her to keep the pace slow and careful on the narrow roads as the sun sets over the mountains. It's easier to breathe on the back of her bike, even with Vanya's arms tightening to a near painful level around her.

"I'm not going that fast," she teases, even though it's likely that Vanya won't be able to hear her through the helmet.

Whatever Vanya's response is, she feels it more than hears it, from where Vanya is pressed up against her back.

Wynter pulls to a stop on the far side of the lake, a bit off the paved road and onto the walking paths, but no one is around to yell at her and Vanya's eyes are probably squeezed shut so she won't be able to tell. She turns off the bike and pats Vanya's hands. "You can let go now."

Slowly, degree by degree, Vanya does. Her feet hit the ground, and she wobbles for a second before standing upright. She lets Wynter pull off the helmet, hand immediately going to fix her glasses. "I forgot how much I _don't_like that."

Wynter, still poised on her bike, gives into the urge this time and helps fix Vanya's hair. "You'll just have to go on more rides. Then you'll get used to it."

Vanya rolls her eyes, but there's fondness there as she turns away and hikes up to the outcropping of rock overlooking the lake.

Wynter pauses long enough to ensure the bike is steady and leaves the helmet perched on the seat as she hurries after. She doesn't really know what to say, didn't think that far ahead when asking Vanya to join her, so instead she just drops down silently alongside the other woman and leans back on her hands with a sigh.

"This was a good weekend," Vanya says after a long pause. She's sitting forward, elbows on her knees, chin in her hands.

From this angle, Wynter as a good view to study her outline against the slowly darkening lake, and wonder how much she wants to contemplate the colors of the sunset in Vanya's hair. "Yeah. Thanks for inviting me."

Vanya turns too quickly for Wynter to disguise that she was staring, and her grin is half lost in shadows. "A lot of good you did as a judge."

"If you wanted me to throw the vote in your favor, you should have paid me off ahead of time."

"Oh?"

Wynter hopes her gulp isn't too noticeable as she swallows down her hesitation and leans forward, matching Vanya's challenging smirk with a raised eyebrow.

"Consider this a down payment for tomorrow's votes, then," Vanya says as she leans in to kiss her.

She's caught off guard for a second before she lifts a hand to Vanya's cheek and eagerly returns the kiss. She can feel Vanya's cheeks lifting in a grin as she pulls back far enough to say, "Honestly, I was hoping for cash or a check or—"

Vanya's laugh is half-muffled against Wynter's lips as she presses back in for another kiss instead.

**Author's Note:**

> GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS Susie asked me to write modern!au girls and immediately all i knew about the world was that the Saints were a biker gang and Wynter has her mom's old bike and leather jacket. Also, it was voted on by my twitter followers that Vanya can whistle well, but she chooses to whistle poorly to annoy Wynter. 
> 
> Also, in this case, I think the Arc and the Brighton House are both half-way homes/orphanages of sorts for kids. 
> 
> Would you like me to write more girls kissing? I know I would. [check out deets on how, here!](https://lady-mab.dreamwidth.org/342348.html)


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